Chapter Eleven #2
He’d chosen to follow Matt, because Matt’s judgment was steady and sharp, and maybe—just maybe—more reliable than Karl’s own. And that was the only reason he’d been able to relinquish control. Someone had to make the big calls, and Karl couldn’t afford to be the one getting them wrong again.
So he’d submitted to Matt. Willingly, once his decision was made. And although that could change at any time, he didn’t think it would. He trusted Matt in all the ways that counted.
But outside the pack? There was no one else.
So Karl sat through the long stretch of night while Leon slept in cat form, curled against the cold.
The jaguar was a shadow even in the dark, a shape barely distinguishable from the rocks and leaves around him.
Only the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing marked him as alive.
That, and the strange sense Karl had of presence—as if even sleeping, Leon was aware.
The air was damp and clinging, and Karl pulled his poncho tighter, muscles locked against the chill. He glanced over at Leon. It would’ve been easy to lie down beside him, to let the warmth and rhythm of another body soften the edge of the night. But easy wasn’t safe.
He listened to the night and thought of his pack.
Jesse, trying so hard not to care that the eyes of the world were on him.
Tom, who’d settled in fast but who still looked up with longing on his face whenever an F16 on a training run streaked low over the ranch.
Colby, doing everything he could to get beyond his past. When he saw the way Colby still occasionally shrank inside himself, Karl wished he could have that moment of reckoning with Nico all over again, make it last longer.
And the rest of them, working hard, doing the best they could with what they’d been given.
Even Riley had slipped easily into the pack, almost as if he were a shifter.
At the center, Matt, holding it all together.
And Karl wasn’t with them, keeping them safe.
Instead, he was up here in the woods chasing threats, just like last time—when he’d left his team behind and come back too late.
He knew they needed eyes on the threat, needed to know what it was. But each time he breathed, the air felt tight and wrong, like something was misaligned in his ribs. It wouldn’t leave him until he was back with his pack, he knew.
Somewhere near dawn, keeping his eyes open became a struggle.
“Leon.”
He said it quietly, but the cat was almost instantly awake, slinking to his feet, ears pricked and whiskers quivering, searching for the threat.
“Your watch,” Karl said without ceremony, and lying down, closed his eyes.
* * *
When he woke, Leon was gone.
Karl tensed, then smelled him, faint on the wind, and relaxed. He wasn’t far away.
By the time he’d got the little spirit stove going and the coffee brewing, the sky was graying, slowly revealing the landscape. He heard the whisper of paws on the dirt.
“There’s some for you if you want it,” he said evenly.
There was a brief silence, followed by the soft crunch of approaching steps. Human, not feline.
Karl didn’t look up. “You weren’t as quiet as you thought.”
“You weren’t as asleep as I hoped,” Leon replied, voice light.
The cat settled beside him, a blanket draped across his shoulders. His hair was a mess of snarls, which he instantly attacked with his fingers. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a comb in that magic box of yours?” he asked.
“Nope.” Karl poured coffee into the spare mug and handed it over.
“Of course not.” It came out with a sigh, and even when he was holding his coffee, one hand was still working through his hair.
For the first time, Karl wondered what his own hair was doing after a night on the dirt, but damned if he was removing his hands from where they were cupped around the warmth of a mug to find out.
They sat for a while, sipping coffee in silence.
Leon finally gave a little satisfied sigh and swung his hair back over his shoulder.
And somehow, impossibly, it was lying flat and sleek again.
Must be a cat thing, having grooming superpowers.
Or a Leon thing. He’d probably look put together after a hurricane.
After a bit, Leon said, “I was thinking. Your pack’s all male. No women, and no pups.”
Karl shot him a glance. “Yeah?”
“It’s not exactly a normal setup, is it?”
Karl was too tired to bristle at the question.
“No. We’re not a normal pack.” Which was understating it, just slightly.
A bunch of loners, rejects and people the system had chewed up and spat out, in need of a home and an alpha.
And an alpha who hadn’t wanted a pack but who was too decent a man to turn them away.
“Matt took us in as we turned up one at a time on his doorstep, poor bastard. He opened his door and let us stay.” His voice softened, unbidden.
Leon was quiet, sipping his coffee.
“I’m sure that if a woman had shown up needing help, she’d have been welcome too,” Karl added. “But I doubt any would have felt safe, coming to a pack full of strange men.”
“That actually makes sense,” Leon said.
Karl gave him a sidelong look. “You sound surprised.”
“Just didn’t think you’d have thought of that. I’m a cat,” Leon said, eyes narrowing faintly. “We assume wolves run on testosterone and brain damage.”
Karl snorted. “And we assume cats run on ego and expensive hair products.”
“Fair,” Leon allowed. “My hair routine has a playlist.”
Karl didn’t smile. But he didn’t scowl, either, and that was starting to happen more often around Leon than he liked to admit.
They finished the last of the coffee in almost-companionable silence.
Afterward, they packed up quickly. The sun was hidden behind thick, dark clouds, the air clinging, cold and damp, but Karl felt sharper. A few hours of sleep—maybe not enough, but it had taken the edge off. Adrenaline would do the rest once they found their quarry.
“We need to talk tactics before we catch up with them,” he said.
Leon cocked his head, like he was weighing the request. “You mean come up with a plan.”
Karl nodded. “We don’t have the same instincts. We’re not pack. Or pride. So yeah, we need to talk first.”
Leon didn’t argue, but there was a tightness to his shoulders that hadn’t been there over coffee. “And if we lose them because we’re strategizing?”
“You telling me you can’t move quickly enough to avoid that?” Karl asked, letting some bite through, more from habit than anything else.
Leon’s mouth twitched, something between irritation and amusement. “Better than you, wolf.”
Then he shifted, smooth as poured shadow, making the transition look seamless. As if the animal had just been underneath the whole time, waiting.
Karl stood there for half a second too long, watching the sleek, dark shape disappear into the trees. Sleek. Jesus, what was wrong with him? That cat was too damn sure of himself for his own good. Or Karl’s.
He gave himself a hard shake.
“I swear to God,” he muttered, already shifting. “Cats.”
Then he was running.